


Teenage Shenanigans

by Gato_322



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: College woes, Family, Gen, Mostly Gen, Teenage Dipper Pines, Teenage Mabel Pines, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 07:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gato_322/pseuds/Gato_322
Summary: Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls for their annual visit, and they've got one last summer before they're officially Adults (tm). Of course, this means they've only got one summer for the last of their teenage shenanigans; regardless of the rules of Stan and Ford. Parties in the woods, dumb crushes, college woes, and running the Shack like the badass duo they are.





	Teenage Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> Dipper and Mabel are dancing queens, young and sweet, only seventeen. Enjoy these two goofballs wreaking havoc like we all know they would.
> 
> There will be Pacifica and Dipper in future chapters, but it won't be a constant thing.

Stan is old.

There’s no doubt about it, as the creaking of his limbs seem to echo in the forest’s stillness. Stan sighs as he leans into the bench of the bus stop, its rotting wood threatening to collapse under his weight. He’s grown a scraggly beard and ditched his suit for a simple dress shirt and modest pants, but everything else remains down to the aches in his joints. Albeit the small minuscule scars he’d received from the trip overseas with Ford; those seem to reveal themselves more and more from adventures that’ve blurred together into one wild stream of happiness.

Ford remains in glorious shape, rippling muscles made apparent as he’d helped out with hard labor around the Shack. Soos gladly returned the business for the summer, far overdue for a nice vacation with his wife and their two hyperactive kids (twins, as the irony would have it). Stan had complained about the onslaught of work he’d receive with returning to his spot as Mr. Mystery, but he’d be lying if he’d said he didn’t miss wearing that trademark fez. Ford saw no downside, for he’d be using the summer as was routine: research, wrestling weird creatures with too many limbs, chopping wood and repairing the Shack as its years dragged on. 

Normalcy. Despite not knowing it, Stan craved that lame domestic life he’d come to love with the Shack. 

Sure, he wasn’t nearly as energetic as his twin, but he was far from being a weak and feeble old man. He still lifted boxes with gusto and threw out antsy customers and moved the dusty mattresses from their place in the outside storage shed. Much like the scars he’d earned, pulling up wriggling sea creatures and casting anchors had granted him some muscle. He had to remain strong and diligent. He’d be wrangling two bundles of nonstop energy, complete with a healthy dose of teenage angst.

Mabel and Dipper are finally visiting.

The year prior had been lonely. Dipper fell ill, Mabel enrolled in some kind of dance camp, and Ford had retreated on some research excursion for a solid month. Despite their tradition of visiting since they were 12, the twins had to miss a year, and they lamented it greatly. Stan still remembered the taste of clearance cake as he’d celebrated their 17th birthday through a cracked laptop screen. But now they had the ability to continue the tradition, Stan made sure of it. He’d missed the runts more than anything, more than the stinging salt of the sea or his cozy armchair or his 8 ball cane. And now that he’d be sending them off as adults at the end of summer, he’d be damned if he’d let the opportunity slip away like the slime-coated creatures Ford had sought after for months. 

The bus finally comes chugging down the hill and Stan eagerly stands, ignoring the inevitable dust cloud as it screeches to a halt. A board from the bench collapses by his heel, but he doesn’t spare a glance back as the doors open wide, announcing the new arrivals with a piercing squeak that echoes through the trees. 

Stan beams, a warm happy feeling filling his chest. Two kids hop off the bus step, carrying a duffel bag, suitcase, and face-splitting smile each. Mabel’s hair is pulled back into an elaborate braid dotted with wilting dandelions, and Dipper has the faintest goatee visible, but otherwise they haven’t changed at all.

“Grunkle Stan!” They sing in unison, running forward for an embrace. Stan hugs them tight, smelling the intermingling of Mabel’s cherry blossom perfume and Dipper’s cologne. “My god, you two needta stop growing. You’re gettin’ too big.”

He lets them go, as Mabel reveals an outburst of energy as Dipper groans. “Grunkle Stan, I’m a whole two centimeters taller than Dipper! Mom says it’ll change once we go back to school, but watch, that’ll never happen!”

“Girls stop growing taller by 18, Mabel, I’m bound to get taller. Stop flaunting it.”

“I will forever reign supreme, brother.”

“Whatever. You’re both taller than me,” Stan deadpans. “I’d appreciate it if you both quit it and returned to barely reaching my cane.”

“‘Cuz you slo~uch,” Mabel teases, drawling out the word. Stan doesn’t reply, taking both their duffels and beginning the walk back to the Shack.

As they walk the familiar route, Stan assures he’d left everything the way they wanted it. Mabel’s glittery posters remained, Dipper’s nerdy books laid in a dusty bookshelf, and their small window still remained cracked from past excursions, though Stan denied that was anyway connected to his cheapness.

Mabel takes in a deep exaggerated breath, swinging her arm over Dipper’s shoulder. “Dip, when we leave this glorious place, we’ll be bonafide adults. That’s gotta be some kinda poetic meaning, right?”

“Probably.” Dipper looks distracted, gazing out towards the deep expanse of pine trees, casting muted shadows amongst the dirt. He reaches out to pluck a needle, rolling it between his fingers. “Uh, hey, Grunkle Stan—“

“Yeah, yeah, Ford continued the journal without you.” Stan ignores the boy’s whines as he scratches at his beard. “Look, kid, the two of you have been gone since two summers ago! Ford’s patient, but not when it comes to his weird science.”

“If only somebody hadn’t gotten sick.” Mabel gives Dipper a pointed look as he rolls his eyes. “Tsk, tsk.”

“But he’s gonna let me help him this summer, right?” Dipper peers at Stan pleadingly, even as the conman bemoaned the fact he had no say in the matter. “If I wanna brighten up my college application, I wanna have really good stories and research evidence, so I can get enrolled into USC and—“

“Look, why don’t you ask him?” Stan makes a sweeping gesture to the porch, where Ford stands watering the feeble garden in the front lawn.

“Grunkle Ford!” The twins sing their duet as they race down the path despite being overloaded with bags. Ford promptly has the wind knocked out of him with their identical bear hugs, the watering can dropping unceremoniously in the dust. “Oh! Dipper, Mabel, how glad I am to see you! You’ve gotten so big!”

“Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Ford, guess what!” Mabel begins as Dipper yells at her to stop. The two begin to chatter, spilling forth anecdotes and stories and newfound facts as the four make it in the shack.

“Dipper got a laaaame job over the spring, he was gone like allll the time—“

“Mabel made it on the dance team! She’s really good—“

“Oh, Dipper tried getting a trench coat like you Grunkle Ford-“

“—found a weird-looking rock the other day, I brought it cuz maybe it’s a geode,”

“—canNOT believe the drama back home, like, everyone’s scared of college and it’s ter-ri-ble—“

“Alright, we’re going to stop you right there.” Ford places his hands upon each of the kid’s foreheads, stopping the stream of information to a grand halt. “Kids, we love you and missed you very much, but please leave the information in bite-sized chunks for dinner.”

Dipper appears subdued and Mabel looks indignant, but they comply and turn their attention back to entering the Shack. “Redecorated,” Dipper spares a single word as they balk at the blatant changes. A new downy carpet, more photographs hung up along the walls, even a more modern television now sitting in the living room, albeit still appearing as something snatched from a yard sale.

“Yeah, well.” Stan scratched the back of his head as he returned from the kitchen with two sodas in hand. “Soos has the idea of fixin’ up the lab so tours could go down there instead. So, uh, the inside’s getting more homier I suppose.”

“I like it!” Mabel beams.

“It’s slowly but surely coming along,” Ford continues, accepting the soda from Stan. “You two can begin to contribute to the changes, so long as they remain...affluent to our tastes.”

“Nothing glittery or bubblegum pink,” Dipper voices, as Mabel blows a raspberry in response.

“Alright, you two oughta get settled in.” Stan shoos them upstairs, the twins remarking on the now non-creaky staircase. “Be careful! Ford’s still workin’ on the support beams!”

The two disappear upstairs, and quiet returns to the lower level. Stan heaves a sigh, leaning his arm against the stair rail.

“I’m tired,” he shoots in Ford’s direction.

“We’ll get through it,” Ford assures, tossing back the rest of his soda.

The only stark difference made apparent are the new support beams keeping the roof from coming down on them as they spoke.

“It’s been a while,” Mabel continues, flapping out a wrinkled sweater that Dipper still felt she had no business wearing in the summer heat. “But Stan wasn’t kidding about everything being in its place.”

“Wish they could’ve dusted at least.” Dipper shoots a disgusted look towards the massive cobweb in his corner of the room. He swears the spider waves at him. “...didya make the list?”

“Of-course, my broski!” Mabel bounces down from her bed, unzipping her duffel bag and flapping out a piece of paper with a flourish. Dipper eagerly seats himself beside her, the two scanning over the highlighter-bright bullet points. “Things to do before Maximum Adulthood” is scrawled on the top of the list in Dipper’s modest handwriting, but the rest was purely left to Mabel’s glittery devices.

“Sick adventure with Wendy, fix global warming, go to our first party, and for youuuuu...” Mabel waggles her eyebrows, as Dipper feels a blush creep on his cheeks upon knowing her implications. “We gotta getcha your first smooch, my dude!”

“Not gonna happen,” Dipper huffs. “We know everyone in this town, Mabel.”

“I meaaan it doesn’t gotta be human.”

“Oh my god, Mabel, of course it does!”

Mabel giggles, transferring the list to his hands. “Okay, okay, but we for sure gotta do an adventure with Grunkle Ford. We’re adults, we’re so ready to go with him now!”

“I mean, not adults yet.” Dipper’s hands droop a bit as the pressing matter returns to his mind. “Ugh, Mabel, the idea feels weird.”

“Hey it’s all good broski. We can do so much! Like. Enlist in the military or something. Drive an airplane.”

“I’m pretty sure age requirement isn’t the main thing for that.”

“Whateverrrrr.” Mabel flops onto the bed, spreading her arms like a weary starfish. “Don’t worry Dip. Ya gotta use this time of ours for all the benefits of being oooold. Damn, can you imagine how old Gideon is now?”

“I bet he hasn’t grown a bit,” Dipper quips.

“I bet he shrunk,” Mabel returns. The two laugh, just as Stan’s voice carries up the stairs. “Mabel, sweetie, your friends are here!”

“Omg!” Mabel jumps from the creaky bed, practically kicking the door open as she races downstairs. Dipper lags, folding the list and shoving it in his pocket before tailing her.  
Mabel throws herself into a group hug with Candy and Greta. Greta’s arms are rippling with muscle, and she’s tall; nearly hitting the door jamb as she lifts Mabel high. Candy is slimmer, now covered in a modest shawl and her hair long and placed in an elegant bun. The three girls shriek, as Ford cringes in the kitchen and Stan stares into space to avoid focusing on his eardrums being blown out.

Finally, Grenda and Candy take notice of Dipper and swipe him into a crushing hug. He feels like his spine is about to eject from his body as Mabel cheers. 

“Oh we missed you so much!” Grenda bellows, as Dipper wonders just how high she’s holding him for his feet to dangle so much. “Missed you too,” he manages to squeak out.

“Are you feeling better?” Leave it to Candy to ensure his well-being. Dipper coughs a bit as Grenda sets him back down. “Yeah. Yeah, a little pneumonia wasn’t gonna kick me down that bad.”

“Sure. Like you weren’t coughing up your lungs every night. It was all, hack hack hack!” Mabel mimes a terrible smoker’s cough, complete with dramatic theatrics of falling to the ground. Dipper turns his head, trying to ignore the flush on his cheeks upon remembering those events of vulnerability. “I could’ve coughed on you, shutup.”

Mabel slips past Ford, gathering a few Colas and leading her posse outside in the Shack’s front yard. Dipper grabs one for himself, tracing patterns on the frosty surface as he plops himself onto Stan’s chair in the living room.

“Up!” Stan barks as Ford immediately begins to admonish his twin. “Stan, for god’s sakes, let them use the dang thing, you’ve hardly sat in it anyway…”

Dipper replies by pushing up the footstand, laying back and sipping leisurely at his cola as Stan waltzes into the room. “Ay, runt, you gonna throw me teenage rebellion already?”

“Grunkle Stan, where’s Wendy?”

Stan sighs, abandoning his tough caretaker demeanor to settle by the poker table. “She didn’t accept the summer job this year.”

“What?!”

“‘Ay, she’s old now, Dipper.” Stan pulls out a stack of cards, shuffling them between his palms. Dipper watches, wondering how an old man could keep his motions so swift. “She just turned 20. Got a job as a lumber worker in some town down south. She’s doing well, she keeps visiting every summer and it’s a for sure thing she’ll be back to see you guys.”

Dipper hums, taking a long swig from his soda. Wendy still proclaimed she was too old for him, especially when she went off to college. He’d tried the whole romantic spiel still, complete with flowers and a “utterly jazzy” new shirt Mabel had helped him pick, but the answer remained the same. He’d had to trudge his 15-year-old self back to the Shack in shame as Wendy traveled off for college. Of course, she’d called him the next day to chat, stating that their friendship would forever hold, and that he was the most reliable person she knew. That in itself felt valuable; Dipper had dumped the flowers in the trash and officially abandoned the idea of Wendy as a romantic interest. Despite toning down his feelings and vowing to stay in Wendy’s trust, he still felt a pang of longing for what possibly could’ve been.

“Mabel’s gonna be sad to hear that,” Dipper states, casting a glance to the window where Mabel is showing off dance moves to Grenda and Candy. “Wendy’s been here since this all started.”

“She’ll still visit. She ain’t gone, kid.” Stan taps the deck of cards against the table before pushing back his chair to stand. “‘Ey, Ford said earlier that he was willin’ to start a new journal with ya. Granted, you keep your nose clean.”

“You make it sound like we’re juvenile delinquents,” Dipper teases as he polishes off his soda.  
“Just a bit. Your mom back home did inform me of all those graffiti antics you and Mabel pulled a few months ago.”

Dipper huffs indignantly. “They were...school projects,” he lies, smoothly as he did back when the police had questioned him back home. Eyes, eyes in bright searing colors, with sharp triangle pupils had dotted the campus for at least a week before the cleaners could take them all down. The twins had lied it’d been an experiment, to avoid returning to a psychologist for the few night terrors they’d experienced when the world was ending. They were better now, Dipper had assured when the police had left. And that much was fairly true; the nightmares were far and few between, and none had warranted another extreme act again. 

Ford appears in the doorway, wearing a gaudy brightly-colored apron. “So! Who’s up for tacos tonight?”

Dipper raises his hand as Stan groans. “Again?”

“They’re beef this time, I promise!” Ford tightens the staps on his aprons as he retreats back to the kitchen. Dipper only shoots a horrified glance at Stan, who returns his attention back to his stack of cards.

That night, the Pines family took solace in 100% beef tacos and stories of the past year. Stan and Ford relayed the rules as usual, with a couple new ones peppered in so quickly, that Mabel and Dipper had hardly registered them in time. No parties, as if that were a possibility in the sleepy town of Gravity Falls, although the apparent group of teenagers had dissolved into college groups who were still willing to rear their drunken heads from time to time. An 11 pm curfew, one whole hour more than two years prior. And lastly, All problems came to either Stan or Ford.

“Problems liiiike a giant forest monster eating Dipper’s face off orrrr…?” Mabel mimes claws with her outstretched fingers as Dipper shoots her an indignant look.

“Oh, for sure that, but anything else falls under that umbrella,” Ford says. “Boy problems, girl problems, puberty questions; why, I have a whole arrangement of books I’m sure you two could benefit from! Did you know growing adults undergo an extreme amount of emotional distress in this political and economical environment? In fact, I have a few full of calming exercises -”

“Alright, don’t scare ‘em,” Stan interrupts swiftly, picking up the empty plates from the table. “Just, look, if somethin’ goes wrong, don’t hesitate to go to us. I know I go on about teenage antics and all, but you two are our responsibilitIes. And Ford and I know quite a bit about the whole ‘becoming adults’ thing.”

Ford goes quiet, picking at the remnants of his dinner and avoiding Stan’s piercing gaze. Dipper notices, and Mabel notices too judging by the hand that moves to his forearm. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”

_We’ll be okay._

The mantra runs through his head as him and Mabel do a toothbrush race, switch into pajamas, and dive into their respective beds. Mabel curls up amongst a flurry of stuffed animals that somehow fit into her suitcase, texting rapidly and giggling at her feed. Dipper entertains himself through mindless scrolling, the mantra pounding in his head as college ads and a full email inbox fly past his eyes.

_Am I going to be okay?_

The idea of college is fleeting and terrifying. The endless tabs of forums he has open haunt him everytime he opens his browser. 

_I’m not going to be okay._

He’s not sure if it’s a method to prove himself wrong or he actually believes it. The night terrors get worse when the questions lay unanswered in his mind. He swipes something from the pocket of his discarded shorts before he gets up to leave the room.

“Where ya goin’?” Mabel calls, looking up from her phone.

“Bathroom.” Dipper shuts the door behind him, despite the fact they never shut the attic door if it’s only a quick trip. Mabel doesn’t reply.

“Grunkle Stan?” 

Dipper feels unbearably small again standing in the doorway of his Grunkle’s room. The cramped space is only a smidgen more clean given Stan’s absence the past year, but the clothes, trash, and endless newspapers have long replaced the carpet. Stan looks up from his bed, folding up another newspaper and looking mildly concerned. “Dipper. Whatcha doin’ up, kid?”

“Just. I wanna ask a quick question.”

“Alright. Get in here kid, the place won’t bite.”

“Yeah, but something hiding in here could.” Dipper kicks at a mound of Pitt Cola cans by his feet.

“Like you and Mabel ain’t worse.” Stan scoots to make room for Dipper on the bed. The springs creak, piercing to the eardrums, and Dipper wonders how Stan manages such a lumpy mattress. “You ok, kid? Not feelin’ sick again, are ya?”

“No. No I’m fine.” Dipper notices that Stan’s eyes have flickered down to the paper crumpled in his hands. “Mabel and I made a, uh. Made a list.”

“I see.”

“To do before reaching adulthood.”

“Ah.” The silence stretches, feels almost formidable before Stan nods. “Ford and I did that too.” He pauses, before continuing. “Lotta good that did.”

Dipper blinked, realizing the telltale signs of tears. His throat feels choked, but he pushes it back, shoves it away like the millions of questions he’s long let drift to the recesses of his brain. “Uh. I. I don’t know, Grunkle Stan.”

“Whaddya mean, kid?”

“I...I don’t know if I’m ready to be an adult.”

Stan is quiet. The silence is permeating, and Dipper feels something ache in his chest so he keeps going.

“I don’t know why I feel worried. I’m really excited. Like I can finally move on and stuff, make my life, go to college....” he’s stuttering, but he doesn’t wanna quit. “I. I don’t know. Grunkle Stan, I don’t want this tradition to end.”

“Who said it had to end when ya kids get older?” Stan snorts, folding his arms.

“...but you guys will.”

That seems to make Stan’s smile instantly vanish. Dipper almost regrets it, but Stan doesn’t comment. He sighs, looking back towards the wall, an array of faded photographs and waterlogged articles strung up on its peeling surface. “...Dipper, Ford and I think about it a lot. More than we oughta really.”

Dipper sniffs at the implication. He never likes to think of Ford and Stan writing wills or buying coffins, but Mabel had already deduced that’d probably been a thing since Ford and Stan discovered they had young relatives to leave things to. 

“And it sucks. Growing old sucks. But it ain’t all bad. And it’s not over so quick.” He looks back at Dipper, the trace of a smile on his face. “Dip, you and your sister got your whole lives ahead of you. But Ford and I will be damned if we ain’t tryin’ to be there for most of it.” 

“...you’re not scared?”

“Oh, all the time. But Ford helps. He once said there’s no point in worrying over the inevitable, that if we spend too much time regretting our actions or worrying about what comes next, we won’t really be prepared. Of course, that was when he got bit by some weird bug a while back that he was convinced would give him superpowers, but the words still got meaning, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Dipper sighs. “I’m excited, really. Just...Mabel seems so ready and it...scares me?” She’d never leave him behind. Not on purpose. 

“It’s a facade, trust me. She’s trying not to scare you with how much she’s scared but you can just tell her. Cuz if she shows it and you show it, the two of you at least hold solidarity without having to play twenty questions about what’s buggin’ ya.” Stan smiles softly, as if speaking from experience, and he hugs Dipper close. Dipper buries his face against his Grunkle’s chest, the fading scent of the sea and old man cologne only making the waterworks worse. “You two are lucky, kid. You got each other going through the exact same thing at the exact same time. You don’t gotta do this alone, and I’ll be damned if you kids ever feel alone going through this shit.”

“You had it worse though,” Dipper sighs. “I’m just going to school. Moving away. You had to live all on your own.”

“That ain’t makin’ your experience irrelevant, Dipper,” Stan assures, brushing a hand through the kid’s hair. “I’m proud of ya. That you’ve got it mostly figured out. Most kids your age, they’re either too busy partying or haven’t figured out their plan yet. Of course, kids your age having to figure their whole lives out within a year ain’t nothin’ but bullshit. But you and Mabel are real smart.”

They stay that way, quiet and speculating, occasional thoughts drifted to one another like a toy boat in the rain gutter. The clock strikes midnight, Dipper is asleep against Stan’s shoulders, and Stan softly nudges him awake. He tilts Dipper’s head, locking onto sleepy eyes, gripping the kid’s shoulders.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid.” Stan assures, and Dipper smiles his thanks. 

He stumbles out of Stan’s room, sleepiness almost making him miss the curled up figure on the floor. Mabel is pressed against the wall, her legs to her chest, visible tear tracks cutting through the hastily applied blush on her cheeks she’d forgotten to remove. Dipper shakes her shoulder, waking her up. 

“Nngh...liar,” Mabel teases, straightening up and embracing her brother. “You make me miss out on a heart to heart with Stan.”

“I’m sorry.” Dipper embraces back, Mabel’s hold tight and encompassing and genuine. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“Dude, for sure.” She pulls back, shooting him a beaming smile, and he can almost envision the colorful braces she’d had removed almost three years ago. “You know I’m always gonna be by your side, broski. Even if you attend college like, on the other side of the world.”

“What about the Arctic?” Dipper stands, helping her up, and the two make their way back into the attic. “What if the only way I can get cell service is by standing on an iceberg?”

“Hmm...false,” Mabel declares, climbing into her bed. “Global warming will have reduced all icebergs. Arctic aint’ happenin’, Dip.”

“That’s grim,” Dipper snorts, and Mabel’s laugh rings out, clearing out all the negative thoughts in his head. He instead imagines her waving him away to college, Skyping her new dorm room, sending colorful postcards in the mail and blowing up his phone with text messages of interactions with passing dogs or a new club or her latest dance competition. He imagines himself responding right back with the exact amount of fervor, and for a second, he almost can’t wait.

“Good night, Mabel,” He calls into the darkness, the unknown, where he knows for a fact the exact spot his sister resides.

“Good night, Dipper.” 

That night, there are no night terrors.


End file.
